


A Kind of Magic

by HooperMolly



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-25
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-02 12:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HooperMolly/pseuds/HooperMolly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donovan, Dimmock, Anderson, and Lestrade attend their fifth year at Hogwarts. Friendship, learning, and four teenagers being silly with their feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Express

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mybelovedcheshire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybelovedcheshire/gifts).



> I use the name Iain for Dimmock, and Daniel for Anderson.  
> This is unedited, unbeta'd, not brit-picked. All mistakes are my own.  
> Eventual Sally/Anderson and Dimmock/Lestrade.

It was an unusually miserable grey morning for the first of September. It had been raining all morning, making the commute for ordinary non-magical citizens a hellish one. 

Sally’s parents had carefully cast a rain repelling charm on her luggage, so that the water would land on it but run off without damaging the trunk itself. They could not do the same for her clothes, as it would draw too much attention to them. 

Thus, by the time they made it to King’s Cross Station, she was shivering from the wet and cold. Although she was blending in nicely with the array of thick, drab woollen coats worn by the muggles hurrying about around them, her parents were far more conspicuous. 

Her mother had opted for a faux fur coat over a sundress, while her father was wearing his usual attire of flared jeans and a tie dyed shirt. Mr Donovan wasn’t a wizard, just a man who had decided that fashion peaked in the 70’s and refused to let that style go. 

Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Dimmock, wheeling a small suitcase behind him, flanked by his parents who looked awfully nervous. 

Both his mother and father were muggles, and while they were proud of their son’s magical ability, they were terrified of the barrier to Platform 9 ¾. Steering her trolley towards them, Sally called out. 

“Iain! Over here!” 

He looked up and spotted her waving at him. With a small smile he changed directions, striding over to meet her. 

“Sally! Had a good summer?” 

He asked, holding out a hand for her to shake. She batted it casually aside and pulled him in for a hug instead. 

“We’re friends you idiot, no need to be so formal. I had a lovely summer. Went to Spain for a few weeks. What about you? Did you get the prefect’s badge? I didn’t, but when you blow up half a dozen toilets twice in one year I suppose they don’t consider you properly responsible.”

Iain looked like he wanted to laugh, but restrained himself. 

He’d only joined her little group of friends last year and he still wasn’t sure that he fitted in. He worried too much. 

“Yes, I did. Arrived in the letter with the list of supplies to get. Greg was really good, came by and fetched me when he went to get his stuff. Mum and Dad don’t like Diagon Alley. It disconcerts them to walk down a street full of moving tea kettles and singing mirrors.” 

Sally did laugh, but quickly stopped when she realised that it wasn’t really funny. 

“Why don’t we say goodbye to our parents here, then go on to the platform ourselves? It will only be ten minutes difference.” 

She suggested. Iain brightened at that. 

“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea.” 

They said their farewells to their parents, who had struck up a conversation about football, which Sally’s mother still didn’t completely understand but was valiantly persisting with anyway. 

They were walking towards the barrier between platforms 9 and 10 when Iain suddenly turned to Sally, a frown on his face. 

“Where’s Mazie?” 

His eyes drifted to the trolley Sally was wheeling, which had only a single trunk on it. 

“I sent a letter to my grandmother. Mazie will meet me at Hogwarts.” 

Iain made a small ‘oh’ noise, before readying himself for the run at the barrier. 10 steps later and the wall had swallowed him up. 

Sally tooked a deep breath and charged at the bricks herself, the familiar woosh sweeping over her before she pulled back and let herself slow into a steady walk. 

The platform was full of students running about, some already changed into the robes, others saying goodbye to their families. 

Iain hurried to return to her side, eyes darting about as he tried to ignore the looks he was getting from some of the magical parents at the case he was wheeling rather than the conventional trunk. 

“There’s no way you’ve fitted everything into that.” 

Sally said to him, nodding at it. 

“Oh. Well, Greg’s dad performed a rather neat little undetectable extension charm while I was at his house. I stayed over for a few nights after we went to Diagon Alley you see. It’s much easier to wheel than a trunk, and less like to draw attention from the non-magical folk.” 

It was always non-magical rather than muggle when Iain was talking. He argued that muggle sounded too much like they were a separate species, and increased separation and anxiety between the wizarding world and the non-wizarding world. 

Sally opened her mouth to comment on Iain and Greg’s sleepover when she heard her name being called from the direction of the train. A quick scan of the compartment windows and she spotted the person responsible. 

Pushing her trolley over, she grinned up at the head poking out the window, which grinned back. 

“I don’t think they’ll let you keep that Dan.” 

She said, laughing. Daniel tried to stroke his beard, but his hand wouldn’t fit out of the window. 

“I don’t suppose they will, but I wish they would. I think it makes me look smarter.” 

Sally reached up and touched the rough bristles. 

“It makes you look like a git. Is Greg in there with you?” 

Daniel shook his head. 

“No. Not that that’s a great surprise. Need a hand with that?” 

He indicated her trunk. 

“I’ll manage.” 

She hurried down the platform to the luggage carriage, where a gruff wizard stowed her trunk away safely. 

That was another advantage to Iain’s suitcase. It was small enough to go in the hand luggage rail above the seats in their compartment. 

As she entered the compartment that Daniel had chosen for them, she was surprised to find Iain still there. He and Daniel were engaged in an apparently riveting discussion about their Runes textbook. 

“That was when I realised that I’d been looking at it in a completely upside down fashion. It was the minor character that really mattered.” 

Iain said animatedly, pointing at a passage in the open book resting on Daniel’s lap. Sally cleared her throat and both boys jumped. 

“Shouldn’t you be in the front carriage doing prefect-y things?” 

She asked Iain. With a yelp he leaped to his feet. He moved to rush out the door when Sally threw out a hand to stop him. 

“Robes? Badge?” 

She queried, one eyebrow raised. 

“Oh. Yes. Right.” 

Obligingly, Sally and Daniel turned away while Iain quickly changed. He was in such a hurry to leave that he didn’t shut the door properly. 

Glancing out the window, Daniel look at the clock. 

“Two minutes until we leave. Where the bloody hell is Lestrade?” 

Two minutes later and the train blew its whistle, signalling that it was about to leave. At that moment Sally caught sight of a familiar figure appear on the platform. 

“He’s not going to make it.” 

Daniel said, at the same time as Sally shouted, 

“Quick, to the stairs.” 

Greg began to sprint for the train as smoke began to billow from the engine. His heavy case dragged along the ground behind him, slowing him down. 

Sally dashed through the corridor and wrenched open the door at the end of the carriage. 

“Greg, here!” 

She yelled as he almost mowed down a small child who had the misfortune of getting in his way. His eyes darted about wildly before connecting with hers as the train jerked an inch or two forward. 

“Hurry, you idiot.” 

She urged him. His brown hair flopped in his eyes as he charged for the door, trying not to trip over the trunk that was hindering him. 

By the time he reached Sally, the train had started to pull out of the station, and he had to walk just to keep up with the train. 

Passing the handle of his trunk to Sally, he reached down and grabbed the other end, pushing it into the carriage. 

With Daniel’s help, she was able to drag it up the stairs and into the corridor, as Greg jogged to stay level with them. He managed to clamber onto the bottom step and hang onto the sides of the door as the platform disappeared behind him. 

Daniel dragged the trunk down to their compartment while Sally grabbed Greg by the ridiculous vest he was wearing and wrenched him in. 

They both collapsed to the floor, panting heavily, as London sped by outside the open door. After a few moments of recovery, Sally scrambled to her feet and shut it, before a prefect could come along and get them into trouble. 

“Perfect timing, eh?” 

Greg said breathlessly as he lay awkwardly on the floor. 

“Perfect timing? You absolute idiot. If Daniel and I hadn’t been there to help you, you’d have been forced to leave your trunk behind or miss the train entirely. As it was, you barely got on board.” 

He grinned, beaming cheekily up at her. 

“Yeah, but you’re my best friends. I knew you’d be there for me.” 

She sighed exasperatedly as he jumped to his feet, before punching him solidly in the arm. 

“Ow. That hurt.” 

He pouted as he rubbed at his shoulder. 

Sally crossed her arms in front her chest and tilted her head to one side. 

“Did it? Good. Get to the compartment, you git. Four doors down.” 

As he began to lumber off down the corridor she kicked him the arse. 

“Too slow. I just saw you sprint across a platform dragging a heavy trunk like it was nothing. Move it.” 

Instead of speeding up, he stopped. 

“What are you? Eleven? Why am I even friends with you?”

“So that in 10 years time when I’m a massive Quidditch star you can tell people you were best friends with me at school?” 

She prodded him in the back. 

“Move it chaser boy.” 

“Uh-uh.” 

Up the corridor, Daniel poked his head around the corner. 

“If you two don’t get your arses up into this compartment now, I will hex you.” 

The pair stopped messing about and walked up the hallway, ignoring the wide-eyed young students in the first compartment they passed. 

“Anderson, nice beard. No way they’ll let you keep it, but it’s great. Suits you.” 

To someone who didn’t know Greg that well, it might have sounded like he was being sarcastic, but Sally and Daniel knew him well enough to know that the compliment was genuine. 

“Thanks Lestrade. Just thought I’d make a statement, you know.” 

The two boys embraced warmly. 

“Was I’m a pretentious git the statement you were going for?” 

Daniel just rolled his eyes and flopped back into his seat, resting his feet on Greg’s trunk which was occupying the part of the floor closest to the window. 

Greg mirrored him, leaving Sally to decide who to sit next to. She was about to flop down next to Anderson when there was a tapping on the window. 

“Anything from the trolley dears?” 

The kindly witch asked when Sally slid open the door. 

“A dozen liquorice wands, 4 chocolate frogs, 4 pumpkin pasties, and a box of every flavour beans thanks.” 

She handed over the coins and dumped the food on the seat next to Greg. 

“What did you get the beans for? None of us like them.” 

Sally bit into a liquorice wand and sank down beside Daniel. 

“They’re for Iain. A congratulatory present for becoming a prefect. They’re his favourite.” 

Greg’s eyes widened. 

“He got prefect? I don’t know why I’m surprised, of course he got it. I’ve got this now that Harry Watson’s graduated.” 

He withdrew a shiny red and gold badge from the pocket of his vest. 

“Quidditch captain? Why didn’t you tell me that before? I would have got you some liquorice snaps or something. Congratulations!” 

Sally glanced over at Daniel, who was trying to look happy for Greg but failing. 

“No prefect badge for you?” 

She asked gently. The grin on Greg’s face faded a little as Daniel shook his head. 

“They said they thought I was too busy, since I’m also taking an advanced arithmancy class along with my regular timetable, and I’m head of the chess club and debating.” 

Sally patted his shoulder sympathetically. 

“It could be that, or it could be because you spend all your spare time hanging around with a bunch of Gryffindors. If they had given you a prefects badge, it may as well have been red and gold.” 

Greg murmured as he struggle to rip open his chocolate frog. 

At that moment the door slid open and Dimmock slipped in, almost sitting on the pile of food. Shifting most of it to the floor, he too grabbed a chocolate frog. 

“The first years were very impressed with your dash across the platform.” 

He muttered to Greg as he tore the packaging open. 

“Famous amongst the firsties am I? Brilliant!” 

He grinned before tossing the troublesome confectionary aside and grabbing a pasty. 

“Oh this is great isn’t it? All the gang back together again. “ 

He shifted so that he was leaning next to the window, his legs swung up so that they rested across Iain’s lap. 

Iain looked down at feet before glaring up at their owner. Greg simply grinned wider as he chewed on his pasty. 

Grabbing another few wands and passing one to Daniel, Sally curled her legs up and lay down, resting her head in Daniel’s lap. 

Smiling at each of the boys in turn, she sighed happily. 

“Yep. I’ve got my boys. I’ve got my favourite food. There is nothing expected of us at all for the next few hours. It’s the best part of the year.”


	2. The Sorting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The four arrive at Hogwarts and attend the sorting ceremony.

The rest of the trip went smoothly although Iain was required to go out and patrol the carriage a few times. 

He was all smiles and congratulations when Greg showed him the captain’s badge, but while he nicked off to the toilet Iain shared his concerns with the others. 

“I’m not going to able to sleep because he’ll be chattering away about Quidditch now. Merlin help me if one of the other boys in our year make it onto the team.” 

It felt all too soon that they were changing into their robes while Iain did the rounds to make sure all the other students were doing the same. 

Proudly Greg tried to pin his badge on as they stepped out onto the platform at Hogsmeade, but he wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing and stabbed himself in the thumb. Sally thumped him as he swore. 

“Hey, what was that for?” 

He whined, sucking the injured finger. 

“First years.” 

She whispered through gritted teeth. He made a face at her before turning to Iain. 

“Fix it.” 

He held out the thumb expectantly. 

“You’re missing a please, and I have to direct the first years.” 

Greg stared after him as he disappeared off into the crowd calling for first years to follow, suitcase almost tripping anyone who tried to walk behind him. 

“Who would have thought that a prefect’s badge would turn Dimmock assertive?” 

He murmured incredulously, as Daniel muttered a spell and the puncture wound melted away with a tingle. 

“Do we wait?” 

Sally asked, as it became more and more difficult to stand still against the flowing tide of students exiting the train. 

“No, he’ll come up at the end with the rest of the prefects.” 

Daniel said, catching a Ravenclaw third year as she fell over Greg’s trunk. With a flick of his wand and an unintelligible spell, the luggage was soon floating a foot of the ground and cutting a path through the throng of students. 

As they reached the horseless carriages that took them up to the castle, a woman’s voice echoed across the heads of the students. 

“Mr Anderson, if that beard isn’t gone by the time you sit down for the feast, you’ll be spending your first Saturday of term doing a detention.” 

He grinned sheepishly. 

“Yes Professor.” 

After they’d clambered up into the carriage, along with a couple of Hufflepuff second years who scooted into one corner and ignored them, Greg opened his trunk and pulled out an enchanted razor. 

“You can’t be serious.” 

Daniel balked at him. 

“Why not?” 

Greg shrugged, passing it over. 

“This thing goes over bumps. I’m not entrusting my neck to that thing.” 

The pair of them argued about the reliability of magical shaving blades until they reached the castle, the urge to strangle them growing almost irresistable. 

It was a relief to get down out of the carriage and end their bickering. 

Greg directed his trunk over to the pile of luggage in the entrance hall, robes billowing grandly around him. 

“How are you doing that?” 

Sally queried, as the fabric flowed and rippled without a breeze. Greg flashed her a cheeky grin. 

“Enchantment. Usually used for flags, but I figured it would make my uniform look cooler.” 

Sally doubled over while Anderson just rolled his eyes. 

“Sometimes I completely fail to understand you. I’ll be back, better get rid of this.” 

He pointed at his beard. 

“Save me a seat will you?” 

\--------

The Great Hall was almost full by the time Daniel arrived back and it took him a minute of two to find his friends. 

Iain was already there, sitting next to Greg when he reached them, ignoring the glares he was getting and taking a seat next to Sally. A few students seemed to be expecting Iain to say something, but he didn’t. 

Then the headmistress stood up and gave her welcome speech. He tried to pay attention but having heard the same thing four times before he quickly found it wandering. 

Therefore he wasn’t expecting it when the doors burst open and almost jumped through the roof as the first years began file in. 

“We were never that small were we?” 

Greg whispered. 

“Big intake this year, there has to be 200 kids in that group.” 

Someone down the table murmured. 

A boy with dark skin and a shock of black curly hair caught Sally’s eye and waved. Smiling, she waved back at him. 

“Who’s that?” 

Daniel asked. 

“My cousin Nick. He’s a bright one, probably be one of your lot.” 

From the other side of the table Greg awoke from the stupor he’d been in. 

“I didn’t know you had a cousin coming this year.” 

Sally pouted at him. 

“Do you ever read the letters I send you?” 

He shrugged. 

“I look at them.” 

She huffed and pretended to be offended. 

“You didn’t tell me you had a cousin coming this year in any of the letters you sent me.” 

Daniel frowned. A faint blush crept over Sally’s cheeks. 

“Well of course I didn’t. It’s not very interesting, just boring family stuff.” 

“Your letters could never be boring.” 

The honest sincerity on Daniel’s face made Sally’s face turn scarlet. 

She was saving from having to respond by the Professor Sprout stepping forward with a long list of names and the sorting hat. 

“When I call your name, come forward and we’ll get you sorted. It’s a simple process, I put the hat on your head and it decides which house is best suited for you. No need to be nervous. So, let’s begin. Allen, Jennifer.” 

A tall, ginger haired girl stepped forward. She looked like she was going to be sick. 

Professor Sprout placed that hat on her head. It only needed a few seconds before clearly shouting ‘HUFFLEPUFF’. The table on the far left erupted with cheers, stamping their feet, and one particularly enthusiastic hufflepuff knocked over a jug of pumpkin juice in his excitement. 

“Almond, Karen” 

A tiny girl with olive skin rushed forward, her school robes hanging loosely around her slender frame. It was almost a full minute before she was sorted into ‘GRYFFINDOR’. 

Sally, Greg, and Iain all cheered, Greg banging loudly on the table. 

All smiles, Karen hurried over to the benches, started to sit down next Daniel, caught sight of the blue on the trim of his robes and froze, suddenly unsure. 

“You’re in the right place. He’s not meant to be on this table.” 

Sally told her kindly. Karen’s eyes flitted from face to face before spotting Iain’s red and gold prefects badge. This calmed her enough that she took her place and settled in to watch the rest of the sorting. 

There were far too many students with names beginning with B or C for Sally’s liking and it seemed like forever before they reached the D’s. 

“Donovan, Nicholas.” 

Sally gasped and clutched at Daniel’s arm. 

“I think you’re more nervous than he is.” 

Daniel whispered with a grin. 

“Shhhh.” 

She was too anxious to rise to the bait. The hat had barely touched the boy’s head before ‘RAVENCLAW’ rang out across the hall. 

Sighing with relief, Sally relaxed completely. She didn’t care about the rest of the sorting. 

“He was so adamant about Ravenclaw. I’m not sure I could have handled him being in Gryffindor. He’d be all questions, all the time.” 

She murmured as the next child walked up the stairs to be sorted. 

“Wake me up when it’s over.” 

Greg groaned as he rested his head on Dimmock’s shoulder and closed his eyes. 

Iain glared at him but made no attempt to move him. Experience said that trying to stop Greg from doing something annoying was likely to result in him doubling his efforts. Instead, Iain just glared into his pumpkin juice, mouth all twisted in frustration. 

The sorting dragged on and Sally began to feel sorry for the poor youngsters who were left as each one got a quieter cheer. Finally, they reached the last one, a tall girl named Elena Zymore. 

Everyone made a lot of noise when she was sorted into ‘SLYTHERIN’, glad that it was all finally over. 

It was announced that the feast could properly begin and food appeared on the table. Iain shrugged his shoulder and Greg faked suddenly waking up. 

“Oh food time is it? Brilliant.” 

He started piling mashed potato on his plate like it was the first time he’d eaten in weeks. 

“Woah, slow down chaser boy. There’s a bunch of eleven year olds who were probably too nervous to eat on the train. Ease back a little on your portion size, yeah?” 

Greg look from Sally’s face to the excited young faces to his right, then back to Sally. Sighing, he put the serving spoon down and grabbed a leg of chicken. 

They ate mostly in silence, watching the first years. 

One of Sally’s favourite things about the start of year feast was watching all the muggle raised students encountering magic for the first time. Several of them had screamed when the main course suddenly vanished and was replaced by an assortment of cakes, puddings, and pastries. 

“I’m so full I think I’ll just sleep on the stairs tonight.” 

Sally yawned, stretching her arms above her head. 

“Sounds good, I think I’ll join you.” 

Daniel murmured, his eyelids drooping. 

At that moment the Headmistress stood up and announced the end of the feast. 

“First years please follow your house prefects, who will show you to your dorms. Good night everyone and pleasant dreams.” 

There was a sudden rush of movement as the older students hurried to leave all at once. 

“Gryffindors over here please.” 

Iain called clearly over the drone. Christine, the female fifth year prefect materialised next to him and joined in. 

Wearily, Sally trudged along with her fellow students. Her feet were starting to feel like lead and climbing the stairs to Gryffindor tower was an effort. 

“All right, this is where we split off. I’ll see you tomorrow. Night you two.” 

Daniel said, hugging both his friends before marching off down the corridor with the other Ravenclaws. 

“Up we go.” 

Greg grumbled, as they continued on their tiresome trek up the staircases. 

The portrait was already open when they got there, as students poured into the common room. Neither Greg or Sally was awake enough to stay up and chat, so they mumbled their goodnights and headed off to their respective dorms. 

Collapsing into bed after changing into her pajamas was even more pleasant than she had imagined, and it was only a few minutes before she had drifted off into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally intended to be a one chapter fic, but the plot bunnies are attacking to the point that I no longer have any idea how long/short this fic will be. Also, feel free to point out mistakes/brit pick. I'm my own editor because I'm too lazy to get a beta.


	3. Last Day Before Classes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quartet make the most of the final day before classes begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's been well over a year since I wrote the first two chapters of this. I completely forgot about its existence until the other day and somehow this chapter was the result.

Sunday breezed passed in what felt like minutes as they wasted the entire morning outside in the courtyard. Greg gave everyone a rundown of what had happened in the British and Irish Quidditch league over the summer, Iain worried that he’d forgotten everything he’d ever known about Ancient Runes, Daniel revised some of the charms they’d learned last year, and Sally pretended she was still relaxing in Spain. 

“It was unbelievable. 147 goals in a 3 hour match. Harry Watson is never going to get a game outside the reserves at that club, not when the current chasers are smashing records left, right, and centre!” Greg rambled on excitedly. 

Daniel, the only one still listening, nodded in acknowledgement as he waved his wand and accidentally turned a passing third years robes bright blue. 

“Sorry. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t concentrating.” He rushed to apologise, quickly charming them black again. 

__________

In the afternoon they went into the Great Hall to receive their timetables. Although Daniel was doing the most classes, it was Greg who took the longest. 

“But there isn’t another class that I want to take, Professor.” He insisted. 

“I understand that Mr. Lestrade, but it is expected that all O.WL.S grade students take at least two electives.” Replied Professor Eve, the Defence Against The Dark Arts professor and newly appointed Gryffindor head. 

“Why? There is no point in me wasting my time, and the time of a professor, in a class that I don’t want or need to study.” Professor Eve smiled at that. 

“I’m going to be here all day if I try to force you to choose another elective, aren’t I?” Greg nodded firmly. 

“You are a stubborn one Mr. Lestrade. Wait here. I have to discuss this with the Headmistress.” He disappeared for fifteen or so minutes, leaving a handful of annoyed Gryffindors with blank timetables glaring angrily at Greg. 

“The Headmistress has agreed to let you take only one elective, provided you spend that extra time doing something productive.” He informed him when He returned. 

“Therefore, you will be spending Monday afternoons assisting Madame Hooch with first year flying lessons. Is that okay with you?” Professor Eve asked, wand hovering over Lestrade’s blank timetable.

“Perfectly okay.” He grinned. As they walked away Greg clapped his hands together gleefully. 

“One less class in exchange for more time on a broom? That’s brilliant! I can pick out the kids that show promise and train them up to join the team next year!” He exclaimed. Daniel frowned at him. 

“Just don’t expect me to join you in lazing about during your breaks. I only have 3 per week and I’m going to need them.” Sally pouted as Greg protested. 

“I’m not lazy.” “We’re barely going to see you.” Sally complained.

“You’ll see me in Defence Against The Dark Arts. And Arithmancy with Dimmock.” He said as he draped an arm over her shoulder. 

“Yeah, but in Defence Against The Dark Arts it will be work, work, work. And outside of class you have debating, chess club, and advanced arithmancy. You’ll never have time for me.” 

Greg didn’t miss the switch from ‘us’ to ‘me’, and elbowed Iain in the ribs. The two boys exchanged glances. 

“I’ll always make time for you Sally. Always.” Daniel smiled warmly at her as she flushed with pleasure, beaming back at him. “We’re just going to look at the libr- quid - we're going. See you later.” Iain said loudly as he grabbed Greg by the arm and started pulling him away. 

Daniel and Sally didn’t seem to notice as they went from a fast walk to a jog, disappearing around the corner. 

“You’d better stick to that promise Danny.” Anderson let out a surprised laugh. 

“And here I was thinking we were having a moment. Danny? Where the hell did that come from?” Sally blushed, pulling away from him. 

“I don’t know, it just seemed right?” She said with a sigh. Anderson smiled and slung an arm back over her shoulder, pulling her in close. 

“Here’s a hint: it’s never right to call me Danny. Okay Sal?” Sally grimaced. 

“Point taken.” She said, letting him steer her back towards the castle. 

“By the way, we were totally having a moment.”

__________

Dimmock and Lestrade mysteriously reappeared as Donovan and Anderson made their way back into the castle. Lestrade looked like he was about burst with curiosity but every time he opened his mouth to say something a fierce glare from Dimmock stopped him. 

The Gryffindor common room was fairly empty. Most students were out on the grounds, at the library, or in the great hall catching up with friends. The common room was mainly scattered clumps of first years who were too scared to venture out around the school, and a handful of older students who had settled themselves in the armchairs by the fire for an afternoon nap.

Several of the first years looked alarmed at Anderson’s presence but although it wasn’t common practice to enter another house’s common room, there was no rule forbidding it. Greg immediately settled himself on the rug directly in front of the fire. A seventh year who wasn’t quite asleep peered at him curiously through heavy lidded eyes but couldn’t summon the energy to ask what was he was doing. 

Greg stretched like a cat, sweater rising up to expose his midriff as his cloak spread out around him like a small black lake. As if recognising kin, a tiny grey cat leaped off the bannister where it had been perched and pranced over to nuzzle at his shins. 

“Hallo Rob!” He said, twisting himself into a crescent shape so that he could reach the cat. 

“Her name is Francine, you know that.” Sally said, flopping down next to him. 

Half her face disappeared into the plush rug while the other half was hidden by the brown curls tumbling from her head. 

“Just because that was the name given to her by Lester doesn’t make it her actual name. She prefers Rob. Don’t you darling?” The cat was purring now, leaning into Greg’s fingers as he scratched behind her ears. 

“She’s a cat, Greg. You don’t speak cat.” Anderson said before he too settled down on the rug. 

"I do too." Greg replied indignantly as Anderson removed his robes and rolled them up into a ball that he promptly used as a pillow. 

“Can you even see?” He asked, as Sally tried to rearrange her skirt through her robes without lifting them up or moving her head.

“Nope and it doesn’t matter because it’s sleep time.” She replied, her voice muffled by the rug. 

“Wrong, it’s cat time.” Greg said, holding his feet up in the air at Dimmock, who was standing beside the rug and staring down at his trio of friends. 

“Hey Iain, help me with my shoes will you?” He waved them about as Dimmock stood still, arms folded in front of his chest and a single, unimpressed eyebrow raised. 

“Pleeeeeeeease?” Dimmock’s resolve cracked and with an unconvincing reluctant sigh he removed Greg’s shoes in two quick movements. 

“Thank you dear.” Greg said with a grin and Dimmock inhaled so sharply that he started violently choking on his own saliva. 

“Anapneo.” Anderson said, his wand drawn too quick for Greg to react, although the chaser’s hand had flown to his own wand. 

“Join us.” Anderson said, motioning at the empty space on the rug. 

“No thanks.” Dimmock replied, still looking mildly shell shocked. 

“Iain, lie the hell down.” Even muffled, there was an authority in Sally’s voice that compelled Dimmock to obey as he settled himself down between her and Greg. 

The quartet lay there in comfortable silence for quarter of an hour before Anderson started to snore lightly. The slow, even breaths that Lestrade had settled into suggested that he too had fallen asleep. 

The softness of the rug and the pleasant warmth of the fire and the friendly bodies surrounding him was lulling Dimmock into a comfortable daze until Lestrade suddenly rolled over and flung an arm over Dimmock’s chest and hooked his right leg around Dimmock’s own right leg. 

“Sally.” Dimmock whispered, not sure what to do. 

“Mmhmm?” Sally responded sleepily. 

“Greg’s sleeping on me.” He was starting to feel very aware of the nearest gaggle of first years staring. 

“Yeah, he does that. Is it bothering you? I can wake him up if you’d like.” Dimmock thought about it for a second or two. 

“No. No, it’s fine.”

__________

When Iain woke up an hour later he was initially completely lost as to where he was. It took a few seconds for him to realise that ‘not-bed’ was in fact the rug by the fire in the common room, and that the weight pushing him down was Greg’s wayward limbs.

He tried to roll himself out from under them but his whole body protested. It felt as though he’d had petrificus totalus cast on him. In the end he pushed himself up onto his elbows, disturbing Rob or Francine or whatever he was supposed to call the cat that had curled herself up between him and Greg. Sally appeared out of nowhere, poking at Lestrade with her foot. 

“Come on. Wakey wakey, it’s dinner time.” Greg groaned and drew his cloak up over his head. 

“Greg, get up. Now.” She poked him harder. 

“Everything hurts. Why am I awake? Why am I even alive?” He complained as he attempted to stretch himself out. 

Without answering, Sally reached down and seized her best friend under the arms and hauled him to his feet. 

“Merlin, I forgot how strong you are.” Lestrade said, massaging his neck with one hand and offering the other to Dimmock. Iain took it and Greg pulled him to his feet. 

“I don’t want to go to dinner. Going to dinner means it’s evening and evening means it’s not that long until bed time and that means it’s not that long until I have to wake up and start going to classes and doing homework and being able to see my friends but not hang out because we have so much work to do and -” Sally cut off Greg’s blabbering with a punch to the arm. 

“Ouch, was that necessary?” He asked, rubbing at the spot. 

“Yep. Now move it Chaser Boy. You too Mr Prefect. I'm hungry.” And with that she seized them both by the collar and marched them towards the portrait where Anderson was already waiting.

___________

As Lestrade had predicted, the night hadn’t lasted far beyond dinner. 

Anderson had headed straight for the Ravenclaw dorms after leaving the Great Hall so that he had time to organise all his books and supplies before he went to sleep. In spite of the hour long nap, Sally had disappeared off to bed at 8:30 and Lestrade found himself following Dimmock up the stairs to just half an hour later. 

He was only mildly annoyed that after they’d changed into their pajamas and cleaned their teeth, Rob jumped up onto Dimmock’s bed and curled up on the pillow above his head. 

“Traitor.” Lestrade told the cat, who blinked slowly at him before closing her eyes and going to sleep. 

30 minutes passed and Greg still hadn’t fallen asleep in spite of all his efforts. 

“Greg?” Dimmock’s voice was so quiet that at first Lestrade wasn’t certain that he’d really heard it.

“Greg?” Dimmock repeated, slightly louder. 

“Yes Iain?” He said, fighting down the urge to call him dear. 

It was supposed to be a joke but the way Dimmock had responded when Lestrade had used the term of endearment earlier had piqued his curiosity. He might not be the resident scientist (at least he thought that was the right word) of the group, that was Anderson with his Muggle Studies and his muggle discipline of ‘Chemistry’, whatever that was (Dimmock would know but Lestrade had always been too embarrassed about not knowing himself to ask), but he had always been rather fond of testing things just to see what would happen. So it was odd to find something within him holding him back. 

“I’m glad we’re friends.” Lestrade didn’t know what he was expecting Dimmock to say, but it wasn’t that. He stumbled about for words to say but came up empty.

“If you want to say you love me, you can just say it. I understand. I’m a very loveable person.” He blurted out in his panic. 

Dimmock didn’t respond and Lestrade found his panic increasing at the silence. 

“Iain?” He asked gently. 

“Forget it.” The words were cold and sharp and cut Lestrade deeper than two words had any right to and he didn’t know why. 

“Good night Iain.” He said, trying to ignore the suffocating heaviness settling in his chest. 

There was no reply.


	4. Day One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Classes start back but everything isn't running smoothly amongst the Yarders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John will appear in this chapter, but as they are not focused upon characters I have elected not to put them in the character tags for the fic.

Having gone to bed so early Sally was awake and alert at 6am. Breakfast didn’t get served for another half an hour so she went up to the owlery to see if Mazie had arrived yet. There was no sign of the temperamental creature but Sally wasn’t concerned. 

Her grandmother had a habit of spoiling the bird with treats and constant attention. It wasn’t uncommon for her to be gone for a week. She’d come back though. She always did. 

In the end Sally wasted nearly an hour amongst the birds, petting the school owls fondly. They probably had official names but she had always known them as the authors of her first year books: Bathilda, Newt, Miranda, and Arsenius. Arsenius had a nasty habit of biting most students whenever they went near him but Sally had never had an issue with him. 

By the time she arrived down at breakfast she expected the boys to have beaten her there but she couldn’t see them as she scanned the Gryffindor table. Switching her gaze to the Ravenclaw table she spotted Anderson, who was by himself at the far end. 

She began to walk towards him, pausing when she spotted Dimmock seated beside Athelney Jones in the middle of the Hufflepuff table. There was a moment of indecision as she debated with herself whether she should go join them but she quickly decided on Anderson. 

“Morning.” She said, sliding herself in beside him and reaching for a slice of toast. 

“Good morning.” He replied, giving her a fond smile.

“Is it? Why are we at this table? Why is Dimmock sitting next to Jones? And where the hell is Lestrade?” She took a bite of toast, pleased with the satisfying crunch that served to punctuate her rapid fire questions. 

“I don’t know, I came in and Dimmock had already sat down beside Jones. I was about to head over and sit with them, when Lestrade walked in and...well, it was awkward. They looked at each other and then Dimmock turned his back? I’ve never seen him do that before. Have you?” He asked, pausing long enough to take a sip of pumpkin juice as Sally shook her head.

“So Lestrade stood in the doorway looking a bit like someone had punched him in the gut. Then he just spun on his heels and marched over to the Slytherin table and sat down next to Holmes and Watson.” They both glanced over their shoulders to look at the Slytherin table. 

Unlike the other tables, that were a mixture of red, blue, and yellow trim, the Slytherin table was a sea of green. Most of the Slytherins were half asleep, heads resting in hands and one poor first year had fallen asleep on a plate of buttered toast next to perfectly manicured and bored looking Mycroft Holmes, whose head boy badge shone proudly on his chest. Mycroft was looking down at the boy with a look of such concentrated disdain that Sally was surprised the boy had woken up under the intensity of his gaze. 

Lestrade was easy to spot, a beacon of red that seemed to glow amongst the green background. He was in the midst of an animated conversation with Watson whilst Sherlock Holmes wore an almost exact replica of his elder brother’s face. 

Sally had an overwhelming suspicion that if she pointed out the resemblance that she’d find herself in the middle of a duel she had no hope of winning. She was quick, and smart, but she didn’t have the ingenuity (his words) or psychopathy (her words) that the younger Holmes brother had. She’d take on Mycroft before she took on Sherlock. At least Mycroft fought fairly. 

Greg had a smile on his face and he was laughing loudly at whatever jokes Watson was telling him, but Sally knew him well enough to know when he was putting on a mask.

“They’ve had a fight or something.” Sally said, turning back to the table and pouring herself a glass of juice.

“Yes, I had figured that out.” Anderson replied haughtily.

“So that’s why you said you didn’t know what happened when I asked?” Sally fired back.

Anderson’s mouth twisted as though he didn’t know whether to smile or frown. If he was Lestrade he would have just thumped Sally in the arm. 

“Who do you think screwed it up?” He settled for asking.

“Oh, Greg. Absolutely Greg.”

__________

By the time Sally arrived at the Charms classroom she felt as though butterflies were swarming in her stomach. She sat down in their usual seats by the window and waited. Lestrade came into the room with Holmes and Watson and Sally felt a brief moment of elation when he split off from them and headed over to her. 

“Hey Sally.” He said, leaning down and resting his hands on her desk. 

“Hey Greg.” She replied less brightly than she would have if he’d sat down next to her.

“Look, I’m sorry to do this to you but I’m going to sit with Sherlock and John today. It’s not you, I promise.” He said, running a hand through his thick brown hair. Sally recognised it for what is was, a nervous tic, but she gave him an out rather than calling him it on.

“Going to talk Quidditch?” She said, forcing a smile. Greg shook his head.

“No. No, it’s ...last night I think I hurt Dimmock’s feelings. It was a misunderstanding but he’s not talking to me. I don’t want to place you in a position to choose between us. I’m not going to be humble and pretend you’d choose Dimmock. You’ve been my best friend for 5 years now, I know you’d choose me. But that’s not the point. I’d be hurting you by putting you in that position and I’d be hurting Dimmock more in the process. I’ve got someone else to sit with. Iain doesn’t. I’m sure we’ll work things out when he decides he’s ready to let me talk to him again but for now I’m going to stay out of his way, okay?” Sally hadn’t been expecting such honesty.

She was never very good with her own thoughts and feelings so she always assumed that everyone else would be as cagey as she was. But then, Greg probably wouldn’t be this open with Holmes or Watson, or even Anderson. He trusted her, she realised with a jolt. He knew that he could be truthful with her when it counted and she wouldn’t mock him or question him or push him.

“Yeah, okay. I understand.” She said softly. Lestrade reached out and tried to pull her into a hug that turned into him just wrapping his arms around her head.

“You always do.” He said, letting her go and flashing her his best grin.

By the time Dimmock entered the room, Professor Flitwick had already charmed the day’s lesson plan onto the chalkboard and was ready to call the class to begin. 

“Just in time, Mr Dimmock.” Flitwick squeaked as Dimmock scrambled to sit down.

“Sorry sir.” He replied, pulling his books from his bag and laying them on the table. 

“Welcome to fifth year, students. As this is the first class you will have for the year, I get the pleasure of being the first to give you the O.W.L lecture. Don’t roll your eyes at me Mr Holmes. Just because you’ve managed to get by for four years on talent alone doesn’t mean you’ll find this year a breeze, I can tell you. I can also tell you of plenty of witches and wizards, good witches and wizards, who only just managed to get into their N.E.W.T classes or had to retake an O.W.L or two because they thought they were too good to study. Do not be lazy. There is always something for you to be doing. Just because the O stands for ordinary doesn’t mean that your work can be ordinary. Take pride in yourself and your learning.”

In the end Flitwick spoke for half an hour, explaining what the O.W.L’s were and what the years coursework would entail. He finished off by getting them to revise the colour change charm. 

“Yes, I am aware that you learned this last year but you only cast it on clothing. This year you will be taking the considerably more dangerous step of casting on hair and eyes and other such things. For the next 20 minutes however, clothing only. If I see a single one of you casting the charm on anything else -” He paused and stared pointedly at Holmes.

“You will be in detention faster than you can say colour.” The room soon filled with the garbled sounds of around 70 students all chatting away while pretending to practice. 

Sally tried to start up a conversation with Dimmock but he was determinedly focused on the magic. By the time the 20 minutes were up the only people in the room with altered robes where Dimmock, Sally, and Holmes. Flitwick awarded them 5 house points each for maintaining focus amongst the chaos. 

The final hour of the class was spent in an attempt to turn a few strands of hair blue. Sally managed to get herself a single ringlet of hair that wasn’t blue so much as an odd deep green. Dimmock had succeeded in turning his hair a bright orange that he was forced to get Flitwick to charm back to brown. Lestrade had failed to make any headway at all. Holmes’ hair, infuriatingly, was a brilliant shade of blue.

Equally maddening was the fact that he was able to turn it black again as though it was nothing. Sally ended up going to break with one green curl just to prove that she’d made progress. Anderson took one look at her and started laughing until she caught him in a headlock and threaten to jam her wand up his nose.

“Why are muggleborns and half bloods always so physically aggressive? Don’t you know any hexes?” He teased. 

“Is that a challenge?” She said, raising her wand. She tried to looking threatening but broke into a wide grin when she caught sight of her face reflected in Anderson’s glasses. 

“No. Not a challenge. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that stinging hex you used on me last year.” 

Dimmock was quiet throughout the break. Anderson tried to get him talking with a discussion about runes but after a dozen one word replies he gave up. Since Lestrade was nowhere to be seen, Sally took the opportunity to ask Anderson how her cousin was fitting in. 

“Oh he’s already got his own little group of minions.” Anderson said, scribbling something in the margin of his herbology book. 

“Minions?” Sally repeated, incredulously.

“Yep, minions. Bunch of arrogant little blighters, call him ‘The Textbook’. Are you sure he’s eleven and not running a campaign for Minister For Magic?” 

After break was Defence Against the Dark Arts, the only core class that the Gryffindors took with the Ravenclaws. It hadn’t always been that way, and it wasn’t that way in any of the other years, but after 3 years of increasingly aggressive competition between the two houses they’d decided to shuffle the classes around. Hufflepuffs got the Slytherins while the Ravenclaws got the Gryffindors. 

Holmes had complained to Professor Eve about the division, arguing that cunning should be paired with intelligence while loyalty should be paired with stupidity. The professor had politely informed him that ambition went perfectly well with loyalty, that bravery and intelligence were compatible, and that in case he hadn’t noticed Mr Watson was in Gryffindor.

“Are you calling your best friend ‘stupid’ Mr Holmes?” Eve had asked, as Holmes stood stiffly at the front of the Great Hall where they’d been assembled. Watson had sunk so low in his seat that only his blond hair was visible. 

“No sir.” Holmes had replied. 

“Are you saying bravery is the equivalent of stupidity?” 

“No sir.”

“So it’s just Gryffindor you think is stupid.” 

“If by Gryffindor you mean their incessant and idiotic pride in taking reckless risks and ignoring logic and reason in favour of poorly thought out, irrational and emotional decisions, then yes sir. ” It had taken weeks for Sherlock to stop being harassed about that comment. 

That was a year ago now and Sally still didn’t understand why Watson was friends with him but who other people chose as friends and why wasn’t really any of her business so she never asked. Nor did she ask why Lestrade insisted on being friends with the pair of them. She’d always assumed that he wanted to talk to John about Harry, which didn’t make any sense at all since Harry only graduated the previous year.

“Sally, are you just going to stand there all day or are you going to sit down?” Anderson’s voice penetrated her thoughts and brought her back into the present. 

“What? Oh, sorry. I was a mile away.”

“I noticed.” He smiled and she felt a strong urge to fling her arms around his neck or bury her face in his chest. 

She settled for blushing and returning the smile. The five of them were taking up one whole row, the front row in spite of all of Watson and Lestrade’s protests. Dimmock was at the far left, shielded from Lestrade by Sally and Anderson. 

He already had his books out and was reading the first chapter even though Sally was sure he must have read it at least once since he bought it, since he was unable to physically practice when he was at home. She looked down the table and caught Lestrade’s eye, who mouthed something at her and held up four fingers. Four times.

Letting Dimmock have the privacy he desired, she got out her own books, parchment and quill just as Professor Eve swept into the room. A tall man, Jochem Eve was an imposing figure with billowing robes the colour of burnt umber. Sally was completely certain that if her father had been a wizard then he would dress exactly like Professor Eve. 

“Welcome back students. I’m sure Professors Flitwick and Longbottom have given you the rundown on what is expected of you now that you are O.W.L students. I will be repeating most of what they’ve said here. In past years we’ve not enforced strict rules in this class, in spite of certain...events.” Sally instinctively bit her lip.

“This year however, the counter jinxes, counter curses, and counter hexes we will be working on are complex and the spells you will be countering against will be far more dangerous than any you’ve faced before. Yes, in order to properly teach you how to defend yourselves we will also be teaching you several nasty spells. Not all of them, mind you. For the most part I will be the one casting curses and the like at you, but it’s an important part of your Defence skill-building that you learn to combat against different people with different styles. This is a list of the spells you will be learning this year. An ‘o’ indicates that it is an offensive spell rather than a defensive spell. You will not be examined on offensive spells as this is a defence class. A ‘nv’ means that you will be expected to be able to cast the spell non-verbally by the time you sit your exams.”

With a flick of his wand Professor Eve sent dozens of sheets of parchment flying through the room to land on the desks in front of each student. Instinctively Sally picked up the paper in front of her and skimmed over it with a rising sense of panic. 

The list was huge and over half of the items had a tiny nv next to them. Defence had been her best subject last year and she’d been feeling fairly relaxed about taking it at O.W.L levels but now fear gripped her with icy claws. 

“We’re screwed.” She said out loud, still staring in horror at the ink covered page.

“Not yet, Ms Donovan. But as you can see this year will require you to work harder than you ever have before. I have full confidence that you can all achieve at least an A in this subject if you do what is required of you. Let’s not waste any more time, we shall begin.”

__________

Sally panicked her way through lunch, prattling on non-stop for the whole hour and not actually eating anything. Dimmock looked more relaxed than he had all day as he realised that he wasn’t going to be called upon to speak, and while Anderson valiantly persisted in listening to Sally long list of concerns about Defence by the time lunch was over his attention had clearly started drifting. 

For the final class of the day they would be split. Anderson would be off to Muggle Studies, Dimmock had Ancient Runes scheduled, Sally was heading to Divination, and Lestrade would be making his way to the Quidditch pitch for his first lesson as assistant to Madame Hooch. 

Divination turned out to be a welcome distraction from the grim warnings of the earlier two lessons. Firenze gave no lecture on working hard or how difficult the coursework would be. Instead he spent two hours giving them relaxation tips and advice on how to maintain a calm head in the face of stressful readings, which would also work for general anxiety. He also announced that he would be running an additional Tuesday afternoon class for Xylomancy should any of them want to sign up for it.  
  
"Both the Ministry and the Headmistress insist that I continue to teach you how to read tea leaves as part of the course, a method of divination that my kind does not put much faith in, but will not allow me to include the study of fallen twigs and leaves. I must remind you that this additional class will not give you credit for your Divination O.W.L, nor will it be considered an O.W.L itself. It will however, appear on your certificate of graduation under extracurricular activities. So if you aren’t interested in Quidditch or Chess but would like to bulk up your references, then perhaps this subject is for you.”

Sally’s name was first on the list. By the time Firenze dismissed them, there were 3 other names on the list; two Hufflepuffs and the sole Ravenclaw in the class, Sarah Sawyer. Sally couldn’t tell if Firenze was disappointed or not. There were 42 students taking the Divination O.W.L class. If Sally was the professor, she’d be upset.

The sun was shining pleasantly as she left the classroom and she found herself automatically heading towards the courtyard. When she got there she found Dimmock sitting on a seat on one side, busily decoding runes with the aid of his textbook, while Lestrade lay sprawled on the grass on the other. Resisting the urge to seize the pair of them and smash their heads together until they sorted out whatever dumb thing Lestrade had said, she turned on her heels and headed up to the Common Room.

“What’s this? The sun’s out, class has finished, and a Yarder’s not in the yard?” She recognised the voice as belonging to Watson. She strode past him, heading for the boys dorms without giving him so much as a glance. 

“Hey. Donovan! I was talking to you.” Sally stopped, one foot on the staircase. 

“No. You were talking at me. ‘To me’ makes it sound like we were having a conversation. We weren’t. I didn’t even look at you. What the bloody hell makes you think it’s okay to call across the common room and insist that I acknowledge you? I don’t owe you my attention, I don’t owe you a reply. I don’t owe you shit, so fuck off back to your corner and let me get on with my day.”

She turned abruptly as soon as she finished speaking and charged off up the stairs without giving Watson a chance to respond. When she entered the dorm room that now bore a small gold plaque that read ‘Fifth Year - D’ she immediately headed for Greg’s bed. Lester, who was lying on his bed and reading a book on the history of gobstones, barely even gave her a glance. Everyone who shared the room with Greg was used to Sally coming in at all hours and took no more notice of her than any of their roommates. 

Kneeling down she reached under the bed and pulled out the sleek, black broomstick. It had a red stripe down one side, a new addition since the previous year. Sally wondered if it was for the Gyffindor colours or if he’d been listening too many times to one of Iain’s ‘red makes everything go faster’ rambles. 

No one said a word to her as she marched back through the common room, broom in hand. As she passed through the Yard on her way to the Quidditch pitch, only Iain noticed her, giving her a polite wave before burying his nose back in his book. Greg was asleep, robes rippling absurdly on his prone form.

There were still a few first years milling about, clumped together in groups according to house, still too nervous about starting at the school that they couldn’t bring themselves to associate with anyone outside of their classes. Several of them scattered as Sally approached but most of them stayed, watching her curiously.

“Are you on the team?” One boy called out. Sally shook her head.

“No.” She called back. The boy’s face fell and he turned away, no longer interested. If he wasn’t trying out for the team in a year's time she’d eat the sorting hat. Sally took her robes off, folding them roughly and placing them at the side of the pitch. From her pocket she withdrew a hair tie and with some difficulty, managed to get most of her hair into a ponytail. She’d never been one of those girls who could sweep their hair into majestic, perfect styles without looking. She needed a mirror.

She swung a leg over the broom and kicked off hard, soaring into the air. Though she’d never admit it to Lestrade without much prodding, she’d been practicing all summer. Her father, who preferred to keep his feet firmly on the ground and had therefore never gone anywhere that he couldn’t reach by car, had helped her by throwing a few old quaffles that her mother had managed to get her hands on.

Hours they’d spent out in the garden, Sally trying to block and catch quaffles until the light faded too much for them to see. Her confidence on a broom had grown accordingly and now, with a crowd of first years as an appreciative audience, she found herself showing off. Dipping and weaving and changing directions rapidly, feeling immensely proud of her developing abilities.

After half an hour or so she returned to the ground, the grass feeling oddly solid beneath her feet.

“You should try out.” She turned towards the voice and recognised it was the boy from earlier.

“What’s that?” She asked as she dismounted. He was walking across the pitch.

“I said you should try out, for the team. Your posturing during directional flight is all wrong, you’ll be in agony if you play a long match, but you’re very agile. Your turning is excellent, nice and tight.” The boy said authoritatively.

Sally suppressed her first instinct, which was to tell the kid that he was eleven and he could take his opinions and shove them. He seemed to know what he was talking about and he had just given her mostly compliments.

“Thanks. Sally Donovan. And you are?” She said, offering him her hand.

“Mike Jones. What year are you?” Mike replied, shaking her hand.

“Fifth.”

“Ah. You’ll probably know my cousin Athelney. He’s in Hufflepuff.” The boy seemed to be very happy to chat.

“Yes, I know him. No classes with him but he’s good friends with one of my closest friends so we do cross paths from time to time.” Sally replied, walking over to the side of the pitch to retrieve her robes. Mike followed.

“My uncle, his dad, he played for the Arrows. Beater. Athelney never had much love for the game but I do.”

He continued talking to her, leaving his classmates behind as he followed Sally back up to the castle, chatting all the way. He didn’t stop talking until Sally lost all patience and told him in no uncertain terms that he was to shut up, immediately.

They barely saw Dimmock at dinner, as he sat next to Athelney again and disappeared as soon as he’d finished. Anderson excused himself from joining them in the Gryffindor common room, saying that he wanted to actually accomplish some reading and if he sat with Sally and Greg then he’d get less than nothing done.

“The reading list of muggle literature is huge. I wish they’d given it to us over the bloody holidays so I could have made a start on it then.” He’d complained over a large plate of chicken and potatoes.

Sally found herself squeezed into an armchair next to Greg in the crowded common room, reading the gossip pages of the Daily Prophet and mocking it. 

“What did you say to Dimmock?” She asked, surprising herself. She hadn’t intended to actually say the words.

Greg shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m not sure exactly but I think it was something about it being okay for him to love me.” Sally inhaled her own saliva.

“You what?” She choked. Greg was unable to reach his own wand so he pulled Sally’s from her pocket and pointed it at her throat.

“Thanks.” She said. It wasn’t the first time he’d used her wand almost as easily as if it was his own and it wouldn’t be the last.

“You’re welcome.” He replied, flashing her his widest grin. She stared at him, an eyebrow slightly raised expectantly until he gave in beneath her gaze.

“Okay, okay. Fine. We weren’t sleeping and then he told me he was glad we were friends and I’m not good with the sentimental things so I panicked and told him that he could say he loved me. He wouldn’t talk to me after that.” Greg explained.

“What?” He added as he noticed the way that Sally was looking at him.

“You are an idiot.” She replied, failing to suppress a smile.

“It is unbelievable how dim you be sometimes.”

“What is it? What did I do?”

“He thinks you were mocking him. He was opening up to you Greg, something he doesn’t normally do. You know you panicked, I know you panicked, Iain thinks you were being flippant.” She explained as kindly as she could.

“He thinks I was rejecting him or something?” Greg asked.

“Or something.” 

Greg sank down low in the chair, groaning.

“How do I fix it?” He asked pitifully.

“Talk to him.”

Greg looked terrified at the very thought.

“I can’t talk!” He practically squeaked.

“You’re doing fine now.” Sally replied.

“Yeah but you’re my best friend aren’t you? It’s not like you’re the one I…” He trailed off as he realised what he was saying.

“I’m not the one who you what?” Sally asked, unable to keep the smile off her face.

“No. No you don’t. Don’t do that.” Greg said, forcing himself up.

“Do what?” Sally asked innocently.

“That. That thing where you looked at me and it’s like you can read my mind. You’re not a legilimens are you?” He asked, peering at her.

“No. I’m not a legilimens. I am however, very good at reading other people. Some would say it’s a gift, others would say I should keep my nose out of their business and that I’ll never be as good as them with their cunning and intellect.” She realised that she’d raised her voice and several people were now staring at her.

She picked up the Prophet and raised it up high so that it covered both their faces from view.

“Oh Greg, apparently Miranda Frostfire is engaged to Arthur Trentley!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock are being viewed primarily through Sally's eyes, and since she does not like them particularly much they have not been written sympathetically. I hope I have not been unduly harsh on them.


End file.
